Us in Another World
by Badass Archer Daughter
Summary: What would happen if Clint and Natasha weren't the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents they were, risking their lives at every moment and unable to have a true, full relationship? What if they were just mundanes, enjoying life as it was? A short fic written as a reward for a Facebook page of mine. Faith is a funny thing...and even some ideal couples don't get their happy endings.


**Us in Another World**

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_For #BadWolf from GoLdEn SnItCh GrApHiCs __ϟ__, who won the photo edit contest in my Facebook page, "Clintasha/Blackhawk is Perfection." Congratulations, here is my fanfiction for you!_

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_The blond-haired man sits with the Russian woman._

_It's a beautiful day. The sun shines bright in the sky and the birds sing their song. As they sit in the comfortable, warm-looking café, the fresh smell of pastries and ground coffee curls up into their nostrils. They could stay there forever, in that colorful painting, just being the objective of each other's gaze and love. _

_And they do._

_He loves her scent. She's like an expensive wine bottle that gets better with age...except she doesn't seem to. Her dark curls are like dark red roses dipped in pinot noir and her eyes are large emeralds, worth far more than any type of gold. Her figure is also as beautiful as her marble-worthy face, slender and curved, like a glass jar. She looked particularly nice today, in a light mint green robe, slippers, and an arrow pin on her hair, a gift from the man across from her._

_She loves his eyes and his hands. He is so beautiful, and all the things that come from him are beautiful as well. His blue eyes are like faint oceans captured in starlight and she has to resist herself from tousling his messy brown-blond hair. His smile is sweet, his words generous and his figure is muscular and lithe from years and years of moving, designing and building things. _

_"So how goes your house search Clint?" she asks. "Going well?"_

_The man only sighs, stirring his black coffee, no sugars, slowly with his little spoon. "Oh yes, and pigs can fly Nat. It's going disastrous! When I actually think I half-like the house, there's some sort of a deal breaker. Broken pipe and sewer system, outrageous price, cocky or annoying-as-hell landlord, a basement where they used to practice the Occult...you know, the usual crap."_

_The woman, Natasha, smirks. "Ghostbusters worthy?"_

_"Ghostbusters worthy," grinned back Clint._

_"No wonder. You always were afraid of ghosts anyways."_

_"I am not!" argued back the man indignantly, turning red as his girlfriend laughed and others turned to smile at them. Young love, they were used to that. "I'm just...a teeny bit attentitve."_

_"Attentive? More like, I-still-sleep-with-my-plushies-so-I-don't-hurt-their-feelings attentive," she snorted, making him even redder. He looked like an adorable little tomato. "But anyways, why not the Occult one? That sounds like something interesting."_

_"It sounds like something from Supernatural," said Clint snorting back. "Or something from that trash-worthy, but money-bringing movie franchise for annoying teenage girls who want a fake romance. You know, the one where's there an useless stupid kid who lets her blood-sucking albino boyfriend and her rabies-infected mutt lover do everything for her and where she gives a painful, TMI-worthy, birth to a weird ass demon child?"_

_"Do you mean Twilight...or is it a description of our boss?" she asks._

_They both burst out laughing. Clint choking on his coffee but luckily not spluttering it. They wipe off tears of mirth, leftover chuckles and finally, after calming down, Clint looks at Natasha, whispering a faint, "This is why I love you" and then clearing his voice, leaning back in his chair. _

_"Right, because Fury, the absolute design diva of the 21st century, has secret Occult business she hasn't told anyone about," grinned the blond-haired man._

_"Hey! It's a possibility. Nicoletta Fury is like a combination of Meryl Streep in that Anne Hathaway movie...what was it? Oh yeah, 'The Devil Wears Prada' and Regina George from Mean Girls. That's why her hair is so big...it's so full of secrets."_

_"She's bald you know. She wears a wig."_

_"Of course I know," snorted Natasha. "I'm her personal assistant, I notice how it always tilts to one side. You are her favorite interior designers in her interior designer firm. We both see her everyday...we know this. That's how we met you know. We bumped into each other on our way to a meeting."_

_"I remember," grinned Clint with nostalgia. "Anyways Nat...what do you think it would be like? You know, us in another world? A world where I don't know. A world where talented but screechy and witchy-as-hell Nicoletta Fury is a bald African American director of a secret spy organization who doesn't have an eye and is called Nick Fury instead, can do some badass battle moves, and says 'motherfucking' every ten seconds?"_

_Natasha laughed. "You have a lot of imagination...but I can try and I can picture it."_

_"Really? What would I be? And what about you...and us?""_

_"I don't know...but maybe a snipe shooter spy. With a gun or without a gun. Maybe you'd use a bow and arrow. You always showed some interest in that, didn't you? You were always such a history-junkie. You also have good eye and would like some adventure, so maybe it'll work. As to me and us? Well, we'd probably work in the same agency under...haha! Nick Fury. Yeah, I can picture that. Maybe I'm a spy as well. I don't see myself as a sniper, but maybe I could be like an infiltrator, going into buildings and hacking into things, seducing stuff out of people and kicking the lights out of them when they least expect it. We'd probably start off as partners, then friends, then...you know."_

_"I do," nodded Clint. Suddenly he stood up, much to Natasha's surprise. The red-head frowned and gasped as suddenly, he knelt down unto one knee, grabbed a tiny box with a golden, diamond-encrusted ring. "I know I'm not an exciting snipe shooter, proposing to you from a helicopter with fireworks so that we can kiss and elope to Tahiti in a Michael Bay-like way. And I know there are possibly many other men much better than I am...but bless God, I _don't _think I'll ever find a woman better than you are, Natasha. I cannot picture myself spending my life and time with another person for the rest of my existence. So please, with all my heart, will you marry me Natasha?"_

_And as the café drowned with squeals, gushes and a great 'I do!' from Natasha herself, they wouldn't have minded that it was exciting or not, or if they were from other worlds or if they were just mundane people. They were just plain happy and they wouldn't have traded their places for anything else in the world. _

**O-O-O**

The blond-haired archer sits with the Russian spy.

It seems like a beautiful day. The sun shines bright in the sky and the birds sing their song. As they sit in the comfortable, warm-looking café, the fresh smell of pastries and ground coffee curls up into their nostrils. They could stay there forever, in that colorful painting, just being the objective of each other's gaze and love.

But they can't.

Apparently a Swedish human trafficker was meeting with his supplier in this very café about some sort of big important deal. Clint and Natasha needed to figure out who was involved, how many victims there were, how much time this had been going on and...you know, just the usual. They were currently posing as a couple though. Natasha had a beautiful flowy flower-print red dress that matched her hair and Clint wore khakis and a Hawaiian style shirt. No one would suspect them to be a secret agency's Strike Team Delta...but hey, they were masters of disguise, weren't they?

"Hey Clint," says Natasha suddenly in the middle of a conversation, carelessly throwing their covers aside as she leans forward and looks deep into his gorgeous blue eyes. She needs this. She just needs this one moment to talk to him like she'd always done...as her friend and in her heart, as something much more than that.

He looks surprised. While he'd always known the Russian spy was rebellious, she would never break protocol or the rules in a mission. She wasn't so careless. After all, growing up manipulated in the Red Room and surrounded by vicious military, she never had time for that. Nevertheless, he played along with her. Perhaps he needed this one moment more than she did. He sipped his coffee, black no sugars, calmly. "Yeah 'Tasha?"

"Can you imagine us?" she asks and responding to his frown and slight raise of eyebrows, she continues. "I mean, not right now...but in another world. If we weren't doing a job right now and we were just enjoying our daily life. Us, this, in another world. Us in another world."

Clint laughs, almost choking a bit on his coffee. His smile is beautiful and contagious, so Natasha herself ends up smiling as well. He puts his cup down and grins at the spy, some chuckles hiccuping their way out of him. Finally, he clears his throat, leans back and smirks. "I could...but it's just funny."

"How?"

"Well, you could still kill people I bet. You're always so tough," he grins and she does the same in response. "You know, with your killer stiletto heels, whacking people with an iron and outdrinking men with your Russian vodka while clubbing them with a baseball bat."

"Sounds like an exciting life," she says rolling her eyes.

"Yeah," says Clint. Then he looks at her strangely. "What about me? Where would you picture me if I was a normal person?"

Natasha mock frowns, rubbing her unblemished chin. In fact, she's been thinking about it for years and has had the answer for months...but she doesn't let him know. "I don't know. I have to admit I'm a bit more rash than you, so probably-"

"Ha! You admit it then."

She ignores him and continues. "Probably I'd find you somewhere quiet. A teacher maybe. I think you'd be a good teacher. But one of the cool ones I'd say, judging by some of the American films Tony showed me of your public schools. Like, a science teacher who makes corny jokes about bacteria to make his students laugh in class and digs up actual bodies from a graveyard to dissect when they're studying the human body."

He bursts out laughing. Some people nearby frown at them but he ignores them. "Really? Well, I would have to say I'm flattered." However, he then sobers up and looks at her with a bittersweet expression that almost breaks her heart. "What about us? Do you think we would have met?"

She's quiet for some time...but she does reply in the end. "I-I think we would've found a way. I don't know how or why, but I think that's just how destiny works out. It's a strange thing, but with our jobs or not, I think we would've just found each other naturally."

"Is that so?" Clint raised an eyebrow and then gave a low sigh. He looked around, at the mundanes walking to their normal office jobs and at women oogling Clint from afar and at the families who shared slices of pie together and laughed at some story told many times before. "Do you think...do you think we could've worked it out? You know, our relationship? I mean...if it were us in another world, another life, another job."

"Maybe. I can't say," sighed Natasha as well, hoping she could say more on the topic, but restricted within the boundaries of her mind and heart.

Suddenly, at the corner of her enhanced vision, she saw their target head towards his dealers, four hunchmen guarding his every side. They spoke to the attendant and then they whispered to each other. Finally, they nodded at her, slipping some crumpled up bills into her outstretched hands, and disappeared up a flight of stairs to who knows where. She frowned and felt as Clint tensed next to her as well. Apparently he'd seen it all too.

"But either way, I don't think we have a choice about it...about our lives I mean. We are who we are. We're just the puppets of a puppet master's greater game," sighed Natasha. Then, she fingered the two guns strapped beneath her thighs, hidden by the long layers of her flaming red dress. "Shall we follow them?"

"Yes, I'll go to the opposite building and set up. You can deal with them, right?"

"Pft, of course. The attendant is going to take some work though."

"I'll help you deal with that. Then, I'll just pretend I forgot something at our non-existent hotel and go set up my station," said Clint. "I'm sure my uber-handsome charms will work on her. She looks relatively young, and surely won't want any trouble...which we will surely cause, but she won't know that. Then you go up and do your thing. Try to keep it quiet though. Sounds like a plan?"

"I guess. Just a regular day at work, right?"

"Right."

**O-O-O**

**AN: So this is it! I hope you like it. Something I just whipped up in the little free time I have because of tedious schoolwork. Usually I don't make romantic one-shots and I didn't want to make this one too long...but I hope it's up to your liking! :)**


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